Rattlesnake
by Pokota
Summary: Imagine if Cassius Warrington had been chosen as the Hogwarts champion instead of Cedric Diggory. Prompted by a prompt on Tumblr.
1. Goblet

_"If You See A Fork In The Road, Take It"_

* * *

He blinked.

Barty Crouch Jr. had specifically elected to "watch" over the Goblet of Fire during the midnight watch so that he'd have the perfect opportunity to confund the cup into selecting Harry Potter as champion. He also had to make sure that none of the Death Eaters had to sit through watching their child ultimately lose to Potter.

So then who was that strange man standing in the doorway to the Great Hall? He didn't recognize him, and the Eye of Vance that he'd taken from Alastor Moody didn't do anything to help either.

The stranger smirked. "I know you. I have a mission, and my goals are almost in line with yours. I just need to... adjust you for a moment."

Before Crouch could react, the stranger had already acted with his spells. "You will confund the Goblet of Fire into accepting Harry Potter as a fourth champion. You will conveniently forget to confund the Goblet into ignoring Slytherin House. You will not interfere with the Third Task."

With his work done, the stranger walked off into the night, ready to watch the changes he had wrought.

* * *

The Great Hall was packed to the gills with students. Dumbledore smiled; his Age Line had worked wonderfully, and beyond that Harry had never even tried to enter his name.

So why did he feel uneasy?

Paper Number One. "The champion for Beauxbatons is... Fleur Delacour!" A smattering of applause for the girl; the males were more enthusiastic than the females, lending weight to the Veela Heritage theory. Paper Number Two. "The champion for Durmstrang is... Victor Krum!" The applause this time was far more enthusiastic. Paper Number Three. "The champion for Hogwarts is..."

He hesitated for the briefest of moments. "I will remind the student body to remain civil. The champion for Hogwarts is... Cassius Warrington!"

As expected, only the foreign wizards and Slytherin House applauded. All the other houses booed and jeered; some students had the appalling nerve to throw things at their champion. Cassius, surprisingly, neither flinched nor faltered in his step - he walked with his head held high into the side room. He made a mental note to speak with the other heads about this. With a wave of his wand he silenced the jeering crowd. "Well, we now have our three champions. I am sure I can count upon all of you, including the remaining students from Durmstrang and Beauxbatons, to give your champions every ounce of support you can muster. By cheering on your..."

Dumbledore faltered as sparks from the Goblet of Fire caught his eye. A fourth champion was being decided. He snatched the paper out of the air and cleared his throat, his heart sinking. "Harry Potter."

The (non-Slytherin) student body erupted in joyous applause.


	2. Wand

" _Well, I'm not a crook. I've earned everything I've got."_

* * *

 **Support Cassius Warrington, the REAL Hogwarts Champion.**

Draco Malfoy was showing off the new badges that he and some of his friends had made. "And that's not all! When you tap the badge with your wand, it does this!" In demonstration, he did just that, which caused the badge to fade to a different slogan:

 **Potter Stinks**

Cassius smirked. "It's good, but what's to stop Granger from respelling it to be pro-Potter?"

Malfoy just shook his head. "Granger's not likely to have time to mess with the badges; she's too busy being the best _beaver_ in the school." At this, Vincent Crabbe and Pansy Parkinson laughed, as though this were a private joke of theirs. "And in any case, I found a spell that will make it get stuck on Potter Stinks if it detects any magical tampering."

Cassius smiled at this, though internally he asked _And what if someone just paints over it?_ He figured that Malfoy would have thought of a solution for mundane defacement, but in any case he resolved to check this later when he had a moment alone. If Malfoy ever decided to leave him alone, at least. God Above, the little canker was annoying, and his pet strumpet Parkinson wasn't much better. Still, he figured that dealing with sycophants like Malfoy and Parkinson was just part and parcel of being a champion. Malfoy, for his part, just kept droning on, completely unaware that Cassius was paying him no attention.

Cassius looked over at his clock. Nine thirty, and he wanted to fly early the next morning. "Malfoy, I – er, _appreciate_ the unsolicited assistance, but we do not share a dorm, and I do not have any devices in immediate need of repair. **Leave my room.** "

Once Cassius was sure Malfoy and his cronies were out of the room, he set aside his poplar wand, opened up his work drawer, and pulled out some paints and a brush. Painting was a long-time hobby of his; something about the action itself always helped him to relax. He began coating the badge in green paint as he let his mind wander. _The Weighing of the Wands is tomorrow. Not many wizards are allowed to know what the wands of others are made from. I wonder who made the other champions' wands? I wonder what they'll be made from?_

The badge was now completely covered in green paint. One minute, then two, then five passed. Malfoy had either ignored or forgotten the mundane 'solution' that the mudblood Granger would likely come up with. He tapped the badge with his wand and wiped it clean. _Muggleborn. Not mudblood,_ He reminded himself. _I am a Triwizard Champion, and a representative of Hogwarts. I must present myself as that muggle-loving Dumbledore would have me be. If I cannot master my own inner thoughts, my tongue will betray me as a hypocrite._

With the freshly cleaned badge, Cassius started to repaint the "Support Cassius Warrington" emblem. _Potter is a representative of Hogwarts, and will represent himself accordingly. I must – as a pureblood – present myself with purer grace and decorum than that half-blood. Potter will not attack my character, so I will not attack his. Let Malfoy do as he will._

His mind began wandering again. _I know as a pureblood that I am noble by birth. I was ordained by God to be a governor over the half-bloods and mu… muggleborns._ But even as he thought these things, something caught in the back of his mind. _Just as Malfoy was constantly upstaged by Granger and Potter, so too was the Dark Lord ultimately stopped by a muggleborn – Voldemort, the greatest wizard of the twentieth century!_

 _Perhaps… we are wrong about our role in the world._ He thought suddenly. He wasn't sure where the thought came from, or even if it was his own. But the thought would not leave him. It raised questions that he could not answer by himself. He finished painting the badge, and set it aside to dry before he magically sealed it. It would now only ever say "Support Cassius Warrington – the REAL Hogwarts Champion." As it dried, he penned a letter to his grandmother.

 _Dear Grandmother;_

 _I'm having another crisis of identity. The Dark Lord, the greatest pureblood wizard of your generation, was defeated by one of impure heritage. Draco Malfoy, whose blood is of purest ancestry, is routinely vexed by a muggleborn witch. Even I find myself unable to surpass half-bloods of my year._

 _What does it mean to be a pureblood? How can we rule over those more powerful than ourselves?_

 _I know you will answer these questions for me._

 _~ Your little hatchling,  
_ _Cassius._

He held the letter up and read it through again. His Grandmother was always there for him, willing to answer the hard questions when his parents would not. Somehow, he knew that his parents would not be able to answer this question for him. Satisfied with his letter, he disillusioned himself and made his way up to the owlery.

* * *

 _Is the make of one's wand not something that should be kept private?_ "Why is there a journalist at this ceremony?" he asked. He pretended not to notice Potter glancing at him – Potter came out of his "interview" with Midge, or whoever she was, very unhappy and very much grateful that the headmaster had intervened. For her part, she was positively buzzing humming with excitement. _I can already tell the article will be overly focused on Potter._ His question remained unanswered, as Ollivander weighed his wand.

"Poplar and Unicorn Hair. Ten Inches. Rather whippy." Ollivander presented this personal information rather matter-of-factly. "And it has fallen into melancholy."

This was an unexpected turn of events. "Melancholy?"

"Yes. I will speak with you separately, Mister Warrington, as it is likely a very personal matter." Ollivander said this pointedly, almost as though he already knew that it was. "Mister Potter, your wand?"

Cassius, for his part, started thinking again as the ceremony continued. _My wand is unhappy. Is that why I have fallen behind the half-bloods in my year? Why is my wand unhappy to serve a pure-blood? It should be proud to stand by a natural ruler of the magical community!_ But then, again, that question from the previous night rose up inside him. _What does it mean to be a pureblood?_

As he struggled with his thoughts, Ollivander led him to a side room, and closed the door. "Mister Warrington?"

The address shook him from his reverie. "Sir? You said my wand had fallen into melancholy?"

"Indeed it has, though at present it seems resigned to never see the fullness of what it saw in you all those years ago." Ollivander sighed. "Many wizards fall short of their potential."

"I do not understand." _And I'm not sure I want to._

"A Poplar Wand, Mister Warrington, will work best for one of great personal integrity. I can only guess that your wand saw in you a man of clear moral vision when it chose you. If it's not too personal a matter, when you first started here at Hogwarts what was your great ambition?"

 _My great ambition..._ "I… I wanted to prove that Slytherin House was more than just a breeding ground for dark wizards and witches."

"I see… and how would you say you have lived up to that ambition?"

"As a pureblood, I am naturally born to lead wizards and witches of lesser status." The words were out of his mouth before he realized he was saying them. Somehow, when he said them, they sounded _wrong._

"No, child. Your birth has no bearing on this matter. How would you say you have lived up to that ambition? What have you done to fulfill your dream of changing how the world sees Slytherin House?"

 _What I have done…?_ "I… I do not know."

"If you wish your wand to see its full strength, you must change your actions to fit your great ambition." Ollivander smiled. "This great secret of yours, share it only with those you trust."

 _Share it only with those you trust… who do I trust?_ "I… thank you, sir."

He found himself looking forward more and more to his Grandmother's reply. Surely, she would know what to do.

* * *

 _My littlest hatchling,_

 _As for what it means to be a pureblood, that is something I cannot directly help you with. Just as my wand will not work well for you, so too will my answer fail to work for you. But I will give it all the same, in the hopes that you will ask others the same question._

This was not the response he wanted to read, but all the same he knew it was the one he needed to receive.

 _For me, being a pureblood means that we are ordained by God to set an example for the half- and mudbloods. Your father understood this to mean we were to rule over them, but that simply cannot be the case – if there were only purebloods, then there could only be rulers, and then who would be in charge?_

 _I know you will do what you need for yourself. You were always going on about changing how the world sees us Slytherins. Such a great ambition, how could you be anything but a Child of Salazar? Yet when you wrote to me and said that the hat wanted you to be a Gryffindor… you have such great dreams, and you were unafraid to make them come true. I could see why the hat said what it did._

Something clicked when he remembered that moment in his past. His wand saw his potential. The hat felt his courage… where had he gone wrong?

 _I hope you will remember yourself as I remember you. And do me proud, Cass. Potter may have stopped He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, but that doesn't change the fact that you're more experienced than he is. Show that child what experience really means._

 _Your Grandmother,  
_ _Arietta Dagworth_


	3. Breakfast

_"It's because you're asking the wrong questions that you're not finding the right answers."_

* * *

One morning, just after breakfast, Malfoy was trying to kiss up to Cassius. He'd had detention the night before with Professor Moody and couldn't sneak out to see what the other schools' champions were up to – Moody worked him _hard_ , and he was exhausted from moving those heavy boxes without magic. Cassius didn't have anywhere particular he needed to be – he had a free period just after breakfast – and was absentmindedly following Malfoy over to the Gryffindor table.

"...and I bet I could make Potter attack me. I almost got to him a while back; it was just bad luck that he got Goyle with his curse. Still, seeing Granger's teeth grow like that!"

Cassius, for his part, tried not to smile. Granger's parents were dentists, and didn't trust magic to realign their daughter's teeth correctly. It was a constant joke among the Slytherins, particularly after Granger _conveniently_ neglected to tell Madam Pomfrey when to stop shrinking. As though her parents _wouldn't_ notice when she went home for the summer holidays.

When they arrived at the Gryffindor table, they found the Creevy brothers still working on magically changing one of Malfoy's badges – he smirked when he saw that it now read _Potter REALLY Stinks_. Was Granger not interested in fixing the badges? Cassius saw one on her robes that said SPEW. _Maybe she's just letting the boys have their fun._ _No harm in letting them experiment when Madam Pomfrey's around._ Malfoy and Potter started bickering with each other, the usual banter between arch-rivals, when something caught his attention.

Potter pointed toward Cassius and mentioned "Oh yeah? I didn't see _him_ see the Dragons last night." _Dragons?_

"What are you babbling about, Potter?" Malfoy said, before Cassius could react. "Why would there be dragons at Hogwarts? Did your half-breed pal Hagrid bring _another_ egg to hatch?"

"Not this time." Potter said, glancing at the head table. Cassius followed his gaze and saw that Professor Moody was watching the conversation with both eyes. Karkaroff and Madam Maxime, who normally ate with the teachers, were not present. "They brought dragons for the First Task."

Cassius was interested now. He could handle a dragon, depending on the particulars. "And you know this... how?"

"That's not important." Harry said hurriedly. Hm, something he didn't want to get out, it would seem. "Karkaroff was caught leaving, and Hagrid took Madam Maxime there on a date. The other champions will know by tonight, if they don't already, but I didn't see you there. I thought you'd have snuck out to see what was up."

"I was going to, but Professor Moody had me in detention until eleven last night moving heavy boxes without magic." Cassius smirked. "I'm sure you know how exhausting that is, coming from those muggle relatives of yours."

Strangely enough, Potter _didn't_ visibly react to that. Malfoy took this as his opportunity to jump in and start insulting Potter. Since Malfoy was driving, as it were, Cassius started thinking.

 _Can I handle a dragon? Their scales are tough and magic resistant – which means you need to hit them where their scales can't cover them. That means getting them in the eyes. The conjuncitvitus curse usually works when dealing with dragons, so I should make sure I practice that one. Why did Potter tell me about the dragons? It's to his benefit to leave me in the dark. No, right, he's got that habit of being a goody-two-shoes; he can't leave things well enough alone._

"I don't have time for this." Potter said, somewhat loudly, bringing Cassius back to reality. "Arguing with you isn't worth being turned into a small furry animal." He stood up and left before Malfoy could regain his composure. By the time he had, Potter was long gone.

Cassius looked at Malfoy. "Well? What do you think?"

Malfoy snarled. "I think I need to sneak some forget-for-now potion into tonight's pumpkin juice. Can't _anyone_ forget about that stupid ferret thing?"

"I meant about the dragons. You know, the ones I'll be facing in the first task?" _Draco Malfoy, the Amazing Bouncing Ferret._ _The newest_ _joke_ _in Slytherin House. Thank you, Alastor Moody._

"You _believe_ him? You're the – you and – _he's your competitor!_ " Malfoy was somewhere between absolute confusion and absolute horror. "He's going to lie at you if he thinks it'll give him an edge!"

"Okay then, aside from the competitor thing, why do you think he's lying?" Cassius was genuinely curious about this. Malfoy had more experience dealing with Potter than the rest of Slytherin House combined – and he usually came off worse for it. Surely he had some basis for thinking Potter was lying.

"You have to ask? He's friends with that mudblood Granger and that blood-traitor Weasley! He claimed that Black is _innocent_! He snuck his name in the Goblet and won't even fess up to it! He _upstaged_ you! He won't say why he knows about the dragons! I can't see how anyone can believe that 'Saint Potter,' given his record..."

Cassius tuned him out. Aside from Potter being evasive about why he knew about the dragons, this was an old rant about how Potter doesn't behave like a pureblood, about how the wizarding world should be ashamed of having a know-nothing lowborn as its savior from the Dark Lord, and about how Potter snubbed him back on the train in their first year. Nothing in this rant actually indicated that Potter was lying about the First Task.

"...he's a muggle-loving half-blood. A disgrace!" finished Malfoy.

Cassius took this moment to ask Malfoy something that had been bothering him. "Well, what does it mean to be a pure-blood, then?"

Malfoy was gobsmacked. "You... you're a pureblood, you should _know_ already! We're the natural rulers of mankind! Wizards, given power to reshape reality, are naturally superior to muggles, and by our blood we will direct the world! And those of purer blood are greater rulers!"

 _So, the Standard Death Eater Drivel, then._ "That sounds a lot like what your father said when I asked him. Yet that 'muggle-loving half-blood' defeated the greatest wizard of the past century – twice, by his account. How can we be naturally superior when our best gets beaten by one of their _babies_?"

He only meant to shut Malfoy up, but now that he was saying it there was something there that, clearly, the younger Malfoy hadn't thought about. "I... er..."

"What? Your daddy never told you the story about how Harry Potter defeated the Dark Lord as a baby?" Cassius picked up his belongings and started to leave. "I suggest you ask him. In the meantime, let us assume that Potter is telling the truth, and that I should prepare myself to face some dragons for the First Task. Even if it's not actually dragons, I'll still have practiced some rather powerful and nasty spells. I lose nothing by believing Potter."


	4. Egg

" _Climb the mountain just a little bit to test that it's a mountain."_

* * *

Cassius decided to take a slightly longer path to Moody's office. In part, this was because he wasn't sure why Professor Moody wanted to chat with him, but also because Cassius was starting to really _worry_ about the Second Task and wanted some time to think. He had no idea what to make of the screeching egg. He'd opened the egg twice now, both times in the Slytherin common room, and both times he'd only gotten a headache out of it. He'd taken to carrying the egg with him in case inspiration struck – or if he chanced upon another champion cracking the secret.

He was in third place, and he needed to figure out the egg as quickly as he could. Potter had forty points – he suspected that only Maxime's scoring was properly unbiased, though there was no way to prove it. Bagman's bias was obvious, at least. Still, he'd seen Potter fly circles around that dragon. Say what you would about him, but his flying was impressive. Delacour was in second place, at thirty-six points. He was surprised that Maxime had given her an eight instead of a nine – though to be perfectly frank, he had to admit that his opinion might have less to do with her _performance_ and more with her composure. Most Hogwarts girls would have been too rattled by their skirt catching fire to continue properly. He was only one point behind Delacour, and he had to admit that if Dumbledore was playing favorites, he was doing a damn good job of masking it – he'd given him a _nine_ , more than any of the other judges had given him, and it was the same score he'd given Potter. Krum wasn't worried about his score of thirty – in fact, when asked he said it was too _high_ since he'd smashed half his eggs. Karkaroff, of course, was in a temper over the scoring; he claimed unfair discrimination at every opportunity, but all that did was remind the Slytherins of how they tended to react whenever they lost points or got detentions.

As he approached Moody's classroom, he had a strange sense that he'd forgotten something important. He shook his head and knocked on the door. "Come in, and close the door behind you." came the professor's gruff voice. The defense professor's office changed annually, just as its occupant did (Cassius had heard rumors that the Dark Lord had cursed the position out of spite), and this year it reflected the paranoia of the sixth defense professor he'd had. A foe-glass directly opposite the door, a sneakoscope high on the shelf, and various other secrecy sensors in strategic locations. Even his seven-locked trunk exuded an aura of paranoid caution. Cassius shook his head and focused on Alastor Moody – or rather, he focused on the tank of water behind him.

"You're worried about the Second Task." The professor stated once the door was closed and warded. "How many times have you opened your egg?"

Cassius nodded. _This can't be all there is to it._ "I've opened it twice now, and only screeching."

"Open it in there." Moody indicated the tank of water.

He hesitated for a moment. Things weren't adding up. "Why?"

"Because I said to."

"No. I mean, why help me?"

Moody's magical eye fixed on the door. "First, Potter's in first place. Second…" He took a drink from his flask. "Potter asked me the same thing when I helped him figure out how to deal with his dragon. Cheating's just part of the tournament, though Albus likes to think he's above such things. The other judges will be helping their champions, though, and I've heard rumors that Bagman's got money on Potter; even if _Albus_ won't cheat for him, _Bagman_ still could. Who've you got helping you, then?"

 _A claim of altruism? He must have money on one of us._ "I'm sure the odds on Potter were more attractive."

"Only _before_ the First Task. You and Krum are the ones with long odds now, and Krum didn't think of flying like Potter did. Smart money's on you at the moment since you knew the right spells and had the sense to lure your dragon away from her nest first."

A saying of Snape's came to mind: _The brewer who mans two cauldrons drinks only poison_. "Why waste time helping a no-name gelding when the dark horse has better odds to begin with?"

"It's called 'hedging my bets.' My money's not on Potter, it's on _Hogwarts_. I may as well help you _both_ where I can. Besides, five points won't be that much in the long game."

Cassius gave another minute of stalling, of trying to read the professor. By Moody's own admission, he'd already helped Potter once, and the two of them weren't exactly close in points – despite the ex-Auror's claims. Why would Moody tell him anything helpful unless he was sure it would get back to Potter? _He can't be seen helping Potter? Why?_ He decided to ask a new question as the room filled with a distinct lack of screeching – in fact, it was almost musical. Almost. "Planning on sharing this with Potter?"

Moody gave him a look. "Yes, you're too perceptive to be manipulated indirectly like that. Now that I've got a personal stake in the outcome, I need to be more subtle than I was before. So no, _I_ won't be sharing this with The-Boy-Who-Warned-You-About-The-Dragons."

 _He knows I owe Potter, and he's betting on me trying to make us square by helping him with the egg._ There was something else bothering him about this whole thing though, but he wasn't quite sure what it was. _Who would be able to make trouble for Paranoid Auror Alastor Moody if he were too obvious in helping Potter? Or maybe he_ _ **can't**_ _be seen helping only Potter. He probably doesn't want it to get out that he's betting on Potter._ He considered for a moment the change in sound. "Mermish?"

Moody only grunted in confirmation. _I'll have to listen to it underwater, then._ "Take your egg then. You're free to go, lad."

Cassius closed his egg and removed it from the tank. This whole meeting had him on edge though, and he couldn't place why. It still felt like he was forgetting something important. He shook his head again and refocused on Moody's behavior. _Dumbledore has proven in years past that he would gladly play favorites for his precious Boy-Who-Lived, and if Moody's being honest about all this then Bagman's on Potter's side as well. Neither of them have reason to care if Potter's being aided overtly or not, and my own progress is inconsequential at best and inconvenient at worst. Why would either of them use Moody as a proxy to secure Potter's victory?_

He let his legs take him to the Slytherin common room as his mind wandered. _Bagman's not subtle enough to use a proxy – his clumsy last-second attempt at coaching Potter proves that much. And if it were Dumbledore, either I'd be left out of the loop entirely or else we'd both have been coached at the same time. Crouch already has a history of despising criminals and cheats – just look at his own son! – and he wouldn't dare risk what little clout he has left just for the sake of a game. And neither Maxime nor Karkaroff would really_ aid _Potter, indirectly or otherwise, since they've already got their own champions to manage._ He paused to look out a tower window that had a clear view of the lake. _I don't have enough information about this, and anyway there's virtually no point in me trying to suss out who's pulling Moody's strings since they're not likely to be anyone I know anyway._

And as he started down the stairs again a new thought came to him. _What if the reason he wanted me to think he's betting on Potter is just because he's betting on Potter?_ The simplicity of this possibility explained most of the problems with the meeting. _Potter himself would get suspicious if Moody kept helping him, and I doubt Moody would have been as frank with Potter as he was with me about his reasons. I've been spending too much time around the Malfoys, looking for plans within plans within plans. If Alastor Moody's actually being manipulated, I'll eat my cauldron. He really is just making sure he wins his bet._

 _And why shouldn't he?_ Cassius smiled slightly. _If he timed his bet well, he stands to make a mint. Boy-Who-Lived or not, Potter is only fourteen. The oddsmakers would have discounted him – all of us, really – in favor of Krum, the real winner of the Quidditch World Cup. Yeah, the odds will be different now that he's in first place, but anyone winning a bet like Bagman's, placed before the First Task, stands to make a fortune. I'll bet that I could still make a killing from a Potter victory – maybe even more than the promised thousand galleons, even!_ His smile grew wider. _I'd need a proxy bidder, though, and I'd need to wait until after the second task – if I can pull close or even ahead of him then that just extends how much I'd win in the end, and Moody can't complain since he's already told me he's bet on a Hogwarts win…_

And as he reached the entrance to the Slytherin common room, a solution delicious in its simplicity came to mind. _Why use a proxy bidder when I can just blackmail a judge?_

* * *

Ariel Hawkins gave him a kiss before she ducked into the Hufflepuff common room. "Good luck tonight, Cass. And don't forget, I want Honeydukes for when you ask me properly to the ball."

Students weren't officially allowed in the kitchens, but nobody cared enough to keep them out. Except Filch, and then only if you were out of bounds after hours anyway. Which he was, but having a girlfriend in Hufflepuff meant that he knew the other secret exits from the Kitchens – one of which would put him right outside the Slytherin common room.

He decided to wait an hour – disillusioned, of course - before assuming Potter thought it was a trap. It wouldn't have been the first time Potter'd have been lured into a trap – Malfoy had tried twice in his first year, though only the second trap was somewhat successful. He poked his head into the kitchens and ordered one of the elves to set up a chair.

Five minutes. Ten minutes. Fifteen minutes. Doubt and paranoia settled in firmly. _If Potter doesn't show, then I'll have to be more direct with my next_ -

"You put Malfoy up to it." No preamble, just the accusation. Potter didn't even do the courtesy of revealing himself.

"Not here. Inside" He tickled the pear and climbed through to the kitchen.

He waited for the door to close behind him, and then Potter's voice came again while Cassius was disillusioning himself.

"You put Malfoy up to it."

"Of _course_ I did. If it had been _his_ idea, _you_ wouldn't have heard the Mermish song on your way down to retrieve it." He waited a moment, and imagined Potter's eyes widening in realization. He smiled as he took a stale baguette from a passing elf, and settled into the chair. "And he asked me the same question you're about to. You get the same answer he did: I owe you for the dragons, and anything else would have been suspicious. Using Malfoy's distaste for you as a proxy allows us to keep up appearances."

"And the duel we're allegedly having now?"

"I'm not stupid enough to _really_ go out and meet you in the corridor outside of the Hufflepuff common room for an illicit after-hours duel. Or at least, not without having prepared an alibi first, and as there's no useful escape route for me from said corridor I would have been at a disadvantage from the word 'go.' So _I_ can't look like I've been in a duel. Since _I'm_ not here according to testimony, Hufflepuff house as a whole isn't stupid enough to start a school-wide prank war, and Filch is a squib, _you_ can't look like you've been dueling either as there's nobody here _to_ hex you." _As fun as starting a prank war sounds, now's really not the time_. "You proved three years ago that you're too slippery to catch out of bounds even when the deck's stacked against you, so even if you get caught you'd just get away anyway." He paused for a moment. "Hell, now that I think about it, your being rude and not revealing yourself only helps since this way if they decided to question _me_ for being here, I can honestly say I never _saw_ you."

"I thought it was odd that you were actually down here like Malfoy said you'd be. I came down to find out what you wanted." That caught Cassius's ear. _Either he's got a network of spies or he's got some other way of knowing where people are. Either way, this is unexpected, and I'm not sure which I'd prefer. Is there some way to test this? What methods can I rule out?_ "I'm not used to Slytherins being so…"

"I had a _reason_ for wanting to talk with you, Potter. Do you know where Ludovic Bagman is right now?"

"…Bagman? Why?"

"I'm sure you noticed his… _obvious_ attempts at helping you during the First Task." Cassius paused for a second, then continued. "The rumor is that he's bet you'll win the tournament."

"Bagman's a judge."

Cassius gestured meaningfully with his bread. "And the Kitchens are off-limits to students. _Yes_ , he's a judge – which means that he could be prosecuted for violating the terms of his appointment _as_ judge. If he has money on you, I want a cut of his winnings in exchange for guaranteeing them – and for keeping him from being scrutinized _too_ closely. At least a thousand galleons if his bet's big enough…"

"You'd blackmail him into making me the winner."

"You wound me with your bluntness." Cassius stood up and held his hand over his heart, pantomiming having been run through with a sword. He couldn't see it, but Harry Potter was fighting a smile at the overdramatic display. "But yes, blackmail. Of course, if you object I could just reach out to Professor Snape or the Headmaster instead for help with contacting Bagman…" _Damn, I wish I could see him. This works so much better when I can read body language._ "I know Bagman's not in the castle – if he were, I'd have reached out to the Weasley twins directly since he owes them money over the World Cup."

"That would explain…" There was a pause and the sound of paper rustling. _Paper? He's under a cloak or something – disillusionment only covers the target and their clothing._ "I can't tell you anything about Bagman that you don't already know, then."

 _Must be limited to the castle._ "What about Moody? He's been haunting the dungeons and I'd rather not run into him and his magical eye. It can see through disillusionment."

There was a heavy pause, then "You suspect that I spy on people." _Quick on his feet, but about as subtle as a giant._

"Not _directly_ spying, no." _Otherwise you'd have already countered with blackmail of your own_. "You _were_ able to verify that I was down here before coming down here yourself. You did not intend for me to realize this, either. And since I've already demonstrated that you can't _hex_ me without raising the wrong questions, _making_ me forget is out of the question. Of course, you _do_ still have me at a disadvantage in that you could discover my secrets far more readily than I can discover yours, so blackmailing _you_ into cooperating is out of the question as well."

"Then what do you _want_ out of me? Or did you just want to use me as a stepping stone to get at Bagman?"

"For now? An answer and a request."

"I'm not telling you how I knew you were here."

"I didn't expect you to. What does being pureblood mean to you?"

"It means nothing to me. Besides, I'm not a pureblood." This was objectively true – Potter's mother being a mud—a _muggleborn_ was part of his legend as The Boy-Who-Lived.

"Then what _should_ it mean?"

"Nothing." No hesitation, no deliberation. An answer he truly believed in. _You're perceptive, you're practically fearless, and you're quick on your feet. If you were to meld those qualities with subtlety, you'd be unstoppable._

Cassius gave it a moment, then nodded. "My request is that you have fun finding a date to the Yule Ball. I'll be more direct about it if we need to have another chat."

And with that, he left the kitchen before Potter could ask for clarification.


End file.
